Little Stories
by tromana
Summary: Oneshot Collection featuring characters from Gen 1. New: Procrastination: Sid may have treated her like a princess, but that didn't get her out of doing housework. Cassie/Sid.
1. Weak As I Am

**A/N: **Hey,

Little Stories is my oneshot collection for Gen 1 of Skins. I anticipate that sooner or later, collections for Gens 2 & 3 will follow. I expect most of these will be in response to challenges posted on LiveJournal.

I'm also still very new to writing Skins, so please be gentle.

x tromana

* * *

><p><strong>Title: <strong>Weak As I Am  
><strong>Author: <strong>tromana  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T  
><strong>Characters: <strong>Cassie/Sid  
><strong>Summary:<strong> She wishes she hadn't fallen in love with Sid.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I do not own Skins.  
><strong>Notes: <strong>Written for the writeskins community on LiveJournal. Prompt: "Time has changed nothing at all" - Ten Days (Missy Higgins)

**Weak As I Am**

She's hurting.

That's nothing new, because she's always hurting. It's the fucking status quo, something she wishes she could just throw away, get rid of somehow. But it's not that easy, it's _never_ that easy. You can't just scrub everything out and start from scratch, like it's just chalk on a blackboard. It's impossible to just start your whole life again, the way you wanted it to be the first time around, learning from your mistakes and making everything oh so much better.

It just doesn't work that way.

You have to deal with the shit that's thrown at you and get on with your life. There's only so much manipulation you can do before somebody else interferes. Like food, you can control your intake. Nobody can stop you from doing that until you're killing yourself.

She knows that now. And in addition to her fears of pain, fears of misery, she loathes food too now. Eating is a fucking chore, simply because she's grown so used to going without.

And even if you're not killing yourself, not _asking _for people to get involved, they come and fuck things up for you too.

She wishes she hadn't fallen in love with Sid, wishes she could have just said no to him. But she couldn't and she didn't and now she's paying for it.

And _shit_, he just had to fuck Michelle, of all people, didn't he?

Why the fuck did he have to go to Michelle? Why couldn't he have just talked to her instead, found out the truth?

She would have told him, really, she would have. But because he was too fucking stupid and pig-headed, he had to go and ruin things, didn't he?

Fucking Sidney Jenkins. Why did he have to have been so sweet and kind? Why did he make her feel so special, albeit for such a brief amount of time? Why did he have to lead her up the fucking garden path and make her feel like maybe, just maybe, she would get that happily ever after? The one she thought she might just deserve after everything she's already been through.

But she should have fucking known, she knows that. Since when has she ever had the easy ride? Why the fuck would she get to be the fairytale ending? It hasn't happened before, so why break the story of a lifetime?

Besides, she'd tried to kill herself once before over him. Tried, and failed.

Sometimes, she's not sure whether or not her survival is a good thing. After all, she's only destined for more heartbreak and agony.

And pain.

She doesn't know how she can live with more of that. Somebody once told her that things get easier as you grow up, that you learn how to deal with your problems and the like. Now, she simply believes that they told her a sick joke. One where the punch line leads to hollow laughter simply because it hits too close to the bone.

Because things _don't_ get easier and she doubts they ever will. Life just gets more complicated, more fucked up and more _painful_.

What exactly has she done to deserve this? What was so wrong about her that means she deserves punishing time and time again? Was it because she stole apples from the neighbour's tree when she was seven? Or because she accidentally kicked the dog when she was nine?

Why can't she see the positives anymore, only the negatives?

She can barely remember why she had fallen in love with Sid in the first place. All she can think about is seeing him, with Michelle. Acting as if she had never existed, had never played a part in his life.

It's tearing her heart into shreds and she's not quite sure if it can ever be fixed. If she even wants it to be fixed. After all, if it is pieced back together again, it only gives some other bastard the chance to shatter it once more.

If it remains broken, then at least it is in a base state. It cannot get hurt anymore.

She can just stick two fingers up at the world and pretend she's moved on. Chris has the right attitude, she thinks. Fuck it, fuck the world and everyone in it. Whatever she says or does, it doesn't change a fucking thing, so why even bother?

And she won't cry for Sid, not anymore.

Because that'll imply he's won.


	2. Revenge Is Sweeter Than You Ever Were

**A/N: **So, this is my second Gen 1/Cassie oneshot in as many days. Thank the writeskins community on LiveJournal for that. I'm honestly not sure what I think about this piece. It's nothing like what I'd usually like.

Thank you to: anthropologist and sheworksfortheweekend for reviewing Weak As I Am. Thanks also to cobalt_siren on LJ for the prompt.

x tromana

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><p><strong>Title: <strong>Revenge Is Sweeter (Than You Ever Were)  
><strong>Author: <strong>tromana  
><strong>Rating: <strong>M  
><strong>Characters: <strong>Cassie/Michelle, Cassie/Sid  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Cassie was more than happy to be a dirty little experiment  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I do not own Skins and even if I did, I'd give it to Miss Peg  
><strong>Notes: <strong>Written for the writeskins community on LiveJournal. Prompt: 'I tell my love to wreck it all,' from cobalt_siren

**Revenge Is Sweeter (Than You Ever Were)**

The other girl whimpered as teeth and nails clawed against her bare flesh. She had never done this before and she was scared. So _fucking_ scared.

Cassie had though; she knew exactly what she was doing.

Chris had called it 'the power of the pussy'. She liked that. It was a phrase she had since picked up and used on occasion. But just because she now appreciated the virtues of the female form, it didn't mean she didn't like the cock any more. Cassie liked to experiment, to alternate between the two.

If you existed on just a diet of chips, you would soon grow bored of them, however much you originally liked them.

But that was beside the point. It wasn't her main focus right here, right now.

She had more important things to worry about.

Her deft fingers moved slowly downwards and Michelle mumbled incoherently in response. Cassie had to bite on her lower lip to stop herself from laughing. By now, the girl should have broadened her horizons a little more. Should have learned that sex could be so much more than a quick fuck with your boyfriend.

Or one of your best mate's boyfriend, for that matter.

Still. It was better that her sexual inquisitiveness kicked in late than never. And Cassie was more than happy to be a dirty little experiment. After all, she had had many dirty little experiments of her own, of late.

She wasn't entirely sure how this had happened, how she had managed to orchestrate this, but she was glad she had done so. A whole realm of possibilities had drawn themselves in front of her, each more tempting than the former.

So many people had hurt her, had forgotten that she actually had feelings, that she could feel pain. It was about time that she started getting her own petty only to make herself feel better. If only to make it seem like she, too, had a modicum of power which she could use and abuse.

Michelle should relax, Cassie knew that, but she couldn't be bothered to tell her just that. Couldn't be bothered to say a single word. Besides, it was so nice, so exciting to see her so off balance. Everybody thought that _she_ was the unhinged one, but really, was she anymore so than anyone else?

She sucked, licked and bit, working Michelle into a frenzied state. Just as she hoped, just as she planned. All it had taken to pin Michelle against the bathroom door and fuck her senseless was the odd word, the odd lightness of touch. The girl was still bruised and battered. Sid's rejection once he knew he'd been wrong had hit her hard and Tony's desire to take things slow had left her sexually frustrated.

Cassie, naturally, was more than happy to help. She was nice like that. Or, that was what everybody seemed to think anyway. It was a role that she knew how to use to her best advantage. Lure them in, give them a false sense of security and then…

Almost as quickly as it all started, Michelle let out a cry as she finally fell over the precipice. Sweat beaded across her face and chest and eventually, she smiled weakly. Clearly, she hadn't expected that another woman could make her feel like _that_.

"Thanks, Cass."

Fingers, still damp with Michelle's come, came into contact with the brunette's face. The slap was hard, determined and would probably bruise. Cassie had always been far stronger than she looked.

After a couple of seconds, Michelle lifted her hand to touch the mark. She remained silent, completely stunned at the change of events.

"Oh, wow," Cassie stated lightly. "Is that all you have to say for yourself?"

Without a second glance, she picked up her bag and left. She had done all that she needed to do here.

Next on her agenda was to find one Sidney Jenkins.

end


	3. The World Keeps Turning

**A/N: **So... let's briefly change ship here. It's been a little while since I last wrote a Skins oneshot...

Thank you to anthropologist for reviewing _Revenge Is Sweeter (Than You Ever Were)_.

x tromana

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><p><strong>Title: <strong>The World Keeps Turning  
><strong>Author: <strong>tromana  
><strong>Rating: <strong>PG-13  
><strong>Characters: <strong>Jal/Chris  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Jal, as she could have been  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I do not own Skins and even if I did, I'd give it to miss_peg  
><strong>Notes: <strong>Written for writeskins, prompt table D.

**The World Keeps Turning**

She hears a voice.

It's familiar, too familiar. And yet, she cannot quite place it. She wishes she could, oh how she wishes. It feels like it's a part of her life that has been absent for far too long, but at the same time has been there all the time.

She turns and looks.

A child.

Of course it would be, who else could she expect it to be? It's like looking into a mirror. Those big, rounded eyes are just like her own. Chocolate brown and full of hope and dreams. She loves life, this little girl does. Jal knows that in a heartbeat, because it's what she's taught her for these precious few years. How could she have misplaced this voice?

This is her daughter, her own flesh and blood. It's not something you forget in a hurry.

She remembers the birth, as terribly lonely as it was. One of her brothers had said he'd accompany her, but hadn't been able to make it in the end. Couldn't get the time off work to stand by her bedside and watch her endure the agony. At least he had understood that a new life was far more important than anything else she could achieve. Her career, her father's pride. They're things that can be regained. But this is a life, a new human life. That's irreplaceable; even if she could have become pregnant again had she had an abortion.

Unfortunately, her father hadn't seen it that way. He refused to have anything to do with her, kicked her out of the house. He hated the fact that she had chosen to sacrifice her life, everything, for the sake of having a baby at just seventeen. A blossoming career as a clarinettist had been flushed down the pan, her years of hard work and sacrifice just cast aside. How many orchestras would want an instrumentalist who could only work during school hours? None, that's how many. And she remembers that each and every day. Her clarinet sits in her bedroom now, just gathering dust. It's there for the memories; that's all it's worth.

Her baby girl giggles, with a cheeky mischievous grin erupting across her features. It's the spitting image of Chris' smile. It hurts her to know that her baby girl doesn't know her father. Jal knows what it's like to grow up with a single parent and though it's no fault of her own, history is repeating itself. Except she has no one to blame; Chris didn't go swanning off just to escape fatherhood. He died; a legitimate sickness stole him away from her. She misses him, of course she does. Not a day goes by when she cannot stop thinking about her first love. After all, she only needs to look at her only child to see just what she's lost.

But at least he's still living, in a way. Through their daughter. The one that she very nearly had killed simply because it didn't fit in with her life's plans. How could she have even given that concept a second thought? If she'd had the abortion, then she would have destroyed the one thing that she had left of him in this world.

Jal feels a bursting swell of pride as a small hand is placed into her own. They're together. That's what counts.

It could easily have been so different.

She blinks.

Opens her eyes again.

The girl is gone. Instead, she's replaced by a tall, strapping man. He lays beside her, wearing just his pyjama bottoms. At the foot of a bed, a small boy, bouncing up and down. He's no older than five.

Then she realises. It's happening again.

It's guilt, setting in. That's what she always thinks of it as. Guilt.

She loves her son, really she does. Jal hasn't told him yet, hasn't told either of them that she had been pregnant once before. That she had destroyed a life, mostly because she hadn't been sure what she had wanted at the time. Their baby boy could have had an elder brother or sister, somebody to guide him through life like her brothers did with her.

Then again, if she had, she would never have met her husband. She met him at work. At the time, she was never going to meet anyone anywhere else. Music had eaten up all of her free time. He plays a mean oboe and is one of the best in the country. Naturally. Only the best for her, or so her father says. It hadn't been love at first sight, not quite. But she's happy now, comfortable even. If she hadn't been, then Jal would never have married him. It would have been a waste of her time, and his too.

His hand reaches out and strokes her left cheek. She flinches at the touch. It was something Chris used to do, all those years ago. Before…

And the memories are still fresh in her mind. If they hadn't been, then the affectionate gesture would have effected her far less.

"You okay, babe?"

"I'm fine."

No point in telling the truth. It wouldn't get her anywhere.

end


	4. Demons

**A/N: **This was written very quickly, tonight, because it was bothering me and distracting me from my Angst Big Bang fic. It's also very experimental, and I'm not sure if it entirely works. I hope so. It was fun to write, regardless.

Thank you to Callie for reviewing _The World Keeps Turning_.

x tromana

* * *

><p><strong>Title: <strong>Demons

**Author: **tromana  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T  
><strong>Characters: <strong>Cassie  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Cassie and her demons. Again.  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I do not own Skins. Probably a good thing, considering  
><strong>Notes: <strong>Written for writeskins, prompt table D.

**Demons**

You're fat. Fat, fat, fat. Why are you stopping here for? You know the type of food they serve here. It won't do you any good.

I know. I know. But I need something. I need… I need a cheeseburger.

All that fat though! It'll go straight to your thighs, straight to your stomach. And you know how hard it is to shift it again as soon as it hits there. As they say, a moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips. Do you really want to be spending the rest of your life trying to get rid of it? What are you doing? I said don't go in, really Cassie, you know better than this, how many times have I told you…

But it's cold outside. I'm not wearing a jacket or anything. I just left the party and I'm shivering. Fuck it, why should I listen to you anyway? You never have anything positive to say. Besides, I've been here before and the staff are nice. They make me feel better. They make me… smile.

Don't sit down, no don't do that. They're not that nice, really. They don't care, they're just doing their jobs. And not the menu, oh no, not the menu. You know it by heart anyway and you know that it'll all kill you. It's not as if they serve water here, is it?

They do, actually. And not eating will kill me too. That's what the doctors say.

Doctors lie. They're a bunch of hypochondriacs, the lot of them. It's just they're projecting their fears onto you, Cassie. They think you're weak, easily influenced. None of them have spent the time to study the calorific intake of junk food, have they? They're too busy; overworked and underpaid. Even _they_ warn about the cholesterol that'll be running through your veins if you eat something off this menu. That's just a one-way ticket to hell. No man is worth that.

This isn't about Sid. It's because I want to eat. Food is good. It tastes nice. It makes me feel better. I won't feel like I'm on the verge of collapsing. I…

You're not convincing anyone, sunshine.

Yes I am. I've beaten you, I'm better. Why are you still haunting me like this? What have I done to deserve this? You're just a stupid little demon, running inside my brain. And you're not going to beat me. Because I am going to have my cheeseburger and I am going to enjoy it. Nothing you can say or do will stop me. Besides, the staff here deserve my support. They always look after me.

Only to get your money, Cassie. So, you've ordered, but they don't care if you eat it or not. Either way, they still get their money. Unless… unless you pretend there's a fault with it! It's burnt, too cold. The bread's stale. Or the chips are soggy. Something like that, anyway.

It isn't even here yet! How can I complain about food I haven't even tried?

You only have to look at it. See, the fat's congealing on the side. And it can't be cooked through; it's already here and you've been sitting down for what? Five minutes? It's probably riddled with bacteria. Salmonella, E. coli, some other kind of food poisoning. This place is a death-trap and you know it. It's a wonder it hasn't been closed down already, serving bullshit like that to unsuspecting customers.

Shut up, shut up, shut up. It's fine. Anyway, I'll start with a chip. Covered in tomato ketchup. Because one chip won't hurt me, it won't. Besides, I'm feeling woozy. I need the energy.

Yeah, you tell yourself that. You're just deluded and believe that eating will bring Sid back to your side. But it's too late. He's fucking Michelle. There's plenty of other fish in the sea. Girls too, have you ever considered that? Of course you have, but only briefly. Well why not try now? Instead of eating, anyway. Women'll bring you a lot more happiness than a burger ever will. Same with guys too. Just fuck everyone in sight; sooner or later you'll forget about Sidney fucking Jenkins.

Maybe I don't want to forget about him. Maybe I just want to be normal. Be able to go to a restaurant and eat, guilt free. Enjoy food. It's not a crime to eat, there aren't going to be any policemen barging in to arrest me. I've done far worse than this already. And I… I… I can't do this…

Yes, Cassie, that's it, put it down. You didn't want it anyway. Because you're fat. No wonder Sid doesn't want you, not when he could be with somebody as fucking gorgeous as Michelle. It's like comparing chalk and cheese. And you, sweetheart, are the cheese.

end


	5. Procrastination

**A/N: **With thanks to Miss Peg for reviewing _Demons_.

x tromana

* * *

><p><strong>Title: <strong>Procrastination  
><strong>Author: <strong>tromana  
><strong>Rating: <strong>M  
><strong>Characters: <strong>Cassie/Sid  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Sid may have treated her like a princess, but that didn't get her out of doing housework.  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I do not own Skins any more than I own The Mentalist. Sigh.  
><strong>Notes: <strong>Written for writeskins, prompt table D. Also for vanrigsby in a LiveJournal meme.

**Procrastination**

"Cass?"

Cassie ignored Sid; instead she carried on tapping her pen against her chin and staring out at the middle distance. Nothing had particularly caught her attention. Instead, she was simply distracted in the pits of her own mind. Just because she was technically recovered, and technically, she had moved on and settled with Sid, it didn't mean that she didn't have issues. And besides, being easily distractible and lost in thought were hardly the worst things that could happen to a person.

Really, she should have been doing her dissertation. She'd held off on uni for a couple of years and it was eventually Sid who coaxed her into doing it at all. He'd persuaded her that she'd needed to go in order to make her full potential. And he, he had willingly thrown himself into the working lifestyle just so that she could do it. He said something about her being worth it.

Even now, in the third and final year of her English Literature degree, she still found it hard to truly concentrate on the task in hand. How could she when there were so many other wonderful things in the world to be doing? Especially so whenever she had Sidney Jenkins by her side. Most people thought he wasn't anything special, but not Cassie. She knew just how fucking wonderful he was, right down to the very core.

And he treated her like a princess. Well, most of the time anyway.

"Cass!" he repeated, shouting this time.

She jumped, dropped the pen and turned around to stare at him. Her eyes were wide with surprise and she represented a deer caught in the headlights almost perfectly. Soon after, she broke out into a toothy grin and she could see Sid relax in an instant. He didn't like it when she disappeared off into her own head, but she couldn't help it. It wasn't her fault.

"Have you finished?"

Cassie shook her head and he sighed in response.

"Do you have time-"

"For?" she interrupted.

"To help with the washing up," he explained, with the patience of a saint. "I have to go work early in the morning."

"Oh, right. Yes. Great!" she stuttered and blinked several times. "That'd be fantastic, really fantastic. I mean I can take a break. I've nearly finished anyway."

Sid eyed her suspiciously, but Cassie was relieved when he seemed to take her word for it. She stood and quickly followed him through to the kitchen. Before he even had the chance to ask, she plunged her hand into the soapy hot water and scrubbed vigorously at the plate. Washing up was still quite a novelty to her; sometimes she forgot that eating meant it also created dishes to be cleaned. She beamed at Sid as she handed him dish after dish.

"Slow down, Cass," Sid protested after she handed him the fifth dish within two minutes. "I can't dry _that_ fast."

She poked out her tongue before flicking some bubbles in his direction. Sid scowled, but Cassie knew he was only pretending to be annoyed. She watched as he carefully placed down the dish and tea towel before rounding on her. Before she had a chance to realise what he was doing, he had flicked some of the foam back at her in retaliation. Soon enough, chaos followed and they were in an all-out bubble war.

Once she was covered in bubbles, Sid wrapped his arms around her waist and soon enough, his lips met with hers. He tasted of pizza and beer and cigarettes. His hands roamed her body urgently, slipping underneath her t-shirt and across her bare skin. Naturally, she returned the favour with as much passion as she could muster. Within minutes, she found herself shedding both her clothes and Sid's. When she had finally removed his pants, Cassie took a step back to admire the view.

When he closed the distance between them and took her into his arms, Cassie quickly decided that procrastination was far better done with somebody else than on her own.


End file.
